I fear my words from the prying eyes, and myself even. For my story is as sad as it is monotonous, I can’t bare to think of it myself some days for ... have retold the story in my mind a million times over there. A child who’s days of youth were stolen from her. A child who was forced to grow up to early, to see things most never see. To be told not to cry, for that makes you weak, those words alone made her weep even more as a child-woman. To watch with wild eyes those around her loosing. .” That smile tightened as her hand rose to untie the black cape at the neck, and she deftly swept the black silk either side, exposing the glory of her mature femininity. As Cuthbert gasped and ogled the prominence of her excited nipples, standing hard from her full breasts, the luscious bulge of her womanly belly, and the thick but graceful thighs which hosted a cunt ripe with sexual excitement, she edged him closer to the fate she and the girls had in mind and would not be denied.“ ... the. More

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